Head Games
by MizJoely
Summary: Sherlock and Khan fight over Molly - to the death. Only one man can win, but which one?


_A/N: Just a little oddity I cooked up on tumblr earlier. I don't even know how to categorize this story, which is why it is neither a Sherlollipop nor a Khanolly Kiss ficlet. Whatever it is, I hope you enjoy!_

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><p>"You can't have her!"<p>

"Try and take her from me, then, if you dare!"

The two figures hurled the heated words across the short distance that separated them as they circled around, each sizing the other up, looking for the advantage that would allow them to end this battle. The woman they fought over stood watching, brown eyes wide, lips tightly shut, hands clasped together. Sherlock allowed himself a second only to glance at her, but Khan took immediate advantage, closing the distance between them with a roar of triumph and wrestling his opponent to the ground.

Sherlock heard Molly gasp, a soft sound, but one that nevertheless served to spur him on. He kicked out and threw Khan over his head, hearing the Augmented warrior grunt with surprise at having been – at least temporarily – outsmarted by an opponent whom he'd sneered at for being weak and stupid. With a speed that once would have stunned Sherlock, the other man regained his feet and once again pounced, wrestling him back to the ground and throwing his arm around Sherlock's throat, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of him. "Give up, Sherlock," Khan snarled in triumph. "You've lost, and Molly is mine now. Molly, and the entire world; I'll burn it down around us if I have to."

"Sherlock, I know you can do this." Molly's quiet, steady voice came to him over the rushing of blood in his ears, and with one last, almighty effort, Sherlock entirely threw Khan off him, and watched as his enemy went howling into darkness over the edge of a cliff.

Sherlock gasped for breath, dropping to his hands and knees as he stared into the abyss; had the cliff been there when the battle began? He didn't recall this desolate landscape that surrounded him, the sere ground beneath his body, the reddened sky, but even as he examined it, it changed around him; flowers and grass bloomed, the chasm into which Khan had gone to his death vanished, and the cage enclosing Molly, keeping her captive and away from him, vanished as well.

He slowly rose to his feet, astounded as the landscape continued to brighten around him, the sky blue and the sun shining, while Molly ran to him, arms out and a smile brighter than the sun lighting up her face. "I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed.

Just as he reached out for her, everything faded to black, and Sherlock cried out in despair.

oOo

"I think he's waking up."

"Yes, but who is that's doing the waking up, that's what I want to know."

Two voices, one female, one male, both familiar. Molly – yes, Molly's sweet voice was the first, and the second was… "John?" Sherlock croaked, opening his eyes and blinking at the bright lights that surrounded him.

"Yeah, it's me, John, you recognized me, then?" John was grinning in relief, although Sherlock had no idea why. "You recognize us?" He pulled Molly and – ah, yes, Mary, holding four-year-old Isabelle in her arms – into view.

"Mary and Isabelle, and Molly, yes, John, of course I recognize them," Sherlock snapped, attempting to sit up on the – bed? Not one he recognized, but presumably some sort of hospital bed. "Why wouldn't I recognize you?"

Molly bit her lip and he reached up to clasp her hand. "Have I been ill?" he asked, gentling his voice for her sake.

She nodded, and he saw her lips trembling as she spoke. "We thought we'd lost you forever, Sherlock – it is Sherlock, right? Khan is…he's gone now?"

_Khan_. Memory came flooding back, not just of the battle he now recognized as having been for control of his mind, but of the Augmentation process he and the others had been forced to participate in after Moriarty's devastating return – and the identity that had overlain his own. "Yes, he's gone. Just as dead as Moriarty," Sherlock said, knowing it for the truth. He pulled Molly closer, needing to feel more than just her hand in his – needing the embrace his mind had robbed him of as he regained consciousness. She came willingly, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms round his waist. He pressed a kiss to her temple and looked steadily at John. "So, John. Where are we, and how long have I been out of commission?"

His friend sighed and sat on the bed – biobed, the memories of what had happened after being turned into Khan were slowly but surely returning – and took Isabelle from Mary, sitting his daughter on his lap. "It's a long story, Sherlock, and it isn't a pretty one, but we've decided that it's going to have a happy ending anyway. This ship is called the _Vengeance_, and we're currently in deep space heading as far away from Earth as we can get…"

As John continued to speak, Sherlock held tightly to Molly, lifting her up so that she could nestle by his side. No matter what terrible things he'd done when he'd been 'Khan Noonien Singh', it hadn't been bad enough to turn her against him.

And as long as Molly still loved him – and he, her – then he could face anything.


End file.
